Epilogue
Winnifred
Two weeks prior
Before the curse
Winnifred had few desires in life.
She wanted a warm bed to sleep in.
Food in the morning, afternoon, and evening.
Perhaps a touch of human interaction.
And to be treated if not kindly, then at least cordially.
Three out of the four desires was a win by anyone’s standard.
When she’d returned to Mistress Maverine, the older woman had appeared surprised.
The dark hollows under her eyes had deepened upon the death of her beloved husband.
Arthur Maverine had traveled for much of Winnifred’s employ in the Maverine household, but she still knew that he was the family’s source of kindness and goodness.
It appeared that when he died, all the kindness had gone with him. Mistress Maverine sneered now at her shoddy work of polishing the silver. “My husband’s funeral turned into a spectacle for my wretched children. Must I suffer your insubordination, too?”
Winnifred had been too distracted by thoughts of the people she’d met. Of what might befall them.
She had no home. No family. No skills other than the ones Amara Maverine instilled in her at the age of twelve. Her life had been a series of making mistakes in her work, or socially, or magically.
She was adept at saying and doing the wrong thing. Amara Maverine had no qualms about reminding her of this.
“Winnifred. You haven’t packed up Arthur’s things.” She pointed this out literally, her finger waving around at the piles of his clothing, his books, her anger evident in the sharp onyx chips of her eyes.
“No, mistress. I wasn’t certain if you wanted to sort through them first. It felt too personal to do it myself. But if you have no objections, I can certainly get started now.”
She offered this as timidly as a rabbit. She disliked that about herself, but when one spent their whole life making themselves smaller, taking up space was unnatural. It didn’t help that Amara appeared furious.
Why did I return to this?
Because it’s all I know.
Winnie’s mother had always explained to her the value of loyalty, how important it was to be kind to every person and creature in the land.
Amara had taught her different lessons. Do not speak unless spoken to, do not raise your voice, do not talk more than necessary, and make yourself scarce when you aren’t being of use.
Both had stuck. But there had been many restless nights Winnie lay awake in bed, wondering if those lessons had shaped her into a coward. And how on earth she could find any bit of bravery.
“I tire of your mistakes, Winnifred.”
Winnie bit her tongue. It wouldn’t do to remind Mistress Maverine she hadn’t needed to return, that she’d done so only out of obligation. Out of habit. And perhaps it was a horrid truth, she could admit now, that Winnie had grown comfortable in her cage.
Here, at least, it was safe. Not with all those new people who threatened so many emotions she was unaccustomed to. The feeling of being in a place filled with people who loved one another.
It didn’t sound as bad anymore.
“Have you lost your tongue, Winnifred?” Mistress Maverine asked with a disdain that coated Winnie’s skin, making her feel as if she needed a bath.
“No, Mistress,” Winnie answered dutifully. “I am merely at a loss as to how to appease you.”
There was nothing bold in the statement, but Winnie may as well have thrown wine in her boss’s face for the way she stood from her chair, eyes blazing. “You ungrateful girl.”
She didn’t see the blow coming, just felt the smarting of her cheek when Amara’s open palm made contact with her face.
Winnie’s head whipped to the side, and she held her cheek, hating the prick of tears at her eyes. Hating that despite the anger that brewed in her at each slight, she never found it in herself to object, to stand up for herself, to leave.
A coward’s fate.
It wasn’t the first time Mistress Maverine had struck her, but it was the first time she’d followed it with a blatant threat rather than an excuse disguised as an apology.
“I took you in. I gave you food and a safe place to exist. Do you know how many people would pay out the ear for an enchantress? Despite your terrible conduct with your magic, I could’ve made a fortune several times over. But I kept you. To save you. As a favor to your mother.”
The memory of her mother’s ragged fear struck Winnie silent until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.
But the anger was fueling her, driving her to madness.
Stone. They’d turned her mother to stone for a crime she did not commit.
A crime Mistress Maverine was guilty of.
The truth struck Winnie harder than Amara’s palm.
What the fuck am I doing here? Winnifred reached into her pocket, holding tight to a gift that made her brave, one she wouldn’t reveal.
“Mistress Maverine, I quit.” The words were resolute but quiet. She couldn’t muster the sound she needed to give the statement the strength it deserved.
But she’d said it. It was done.
Amara stood, turning slowly, menacingly, toward her. “You…what?”
“I shouldn’t have returned,” Winnie reasoned. “You clearly do not want me here, and so I am ready to grant your wish.”
Her ear was in a painful grip before she realized what was happening, and she froze.
Amara’s eyes were furious, her cheeks red, a monster hiding beneath the pretty surface of her face.
“Until I dismiss you, you’re not permitted to leave this place.
You owe me far more in room and board than I’ve paid you, and if you leave now, I’ll have the debt collectors drag you back. You’re not leaving here. Ever.”
Shaking. She was shaking. Unable to object as Amara shoved her to the ground, her ear stinging from the rough handling of her boss.
“I don’t— I can’t,” she wheezed.
The door slammed open.
And there stood the very last person Winnifred thought she’d see.
Prince Alexander Kingsley walked into the home like it was his own.
His golden eyes were bright, and his once-long hair was cut shorter, falling in thick locks over his forehead.
The sunlight streaming in with him illuminated his golden skin, and his lips were twitching like the scene before him was amusing.
She tried not to hate him for it.
“Alexander?” Amara whispered, stumbling back, her hand over her mouth, saying his name like she was answering a ghost. “Why—why have you come?”
Winnie had the same question, but she was too busy choking on air to ask.
Helplessly watching as Alexander took several long strides forward—
And shoved a dagger through Amara Maverine’s heart.
Winnie gaped, her mouth opening and closing. Her entire body prickled, shock setting into her frigid limbs.
The dagger came free, and Amara dropped to the ground, eyes open as blood stained the floor around her. Dead. She was dead.
This was an odd day for Winnifred.
Odder still when Prince Alexander looked down upon her, his gold eyes softening only a touch when he greeted her with, “Hello there, Winnifred.”
What was an appropriate response to a man murdering your boss in front of you?
“Hello,” she replied softly with a highly inappropriate little wave.
Well. That wasn’t it, surely.
But the sudden death had been so aggressive, she was barely able to grasp the implications. Slowly, though, they sank in. She was free. She was free.
Which was why it was a conundrum indeed when Prince Alexander gripped her arm as gently as one would hold a feather, helping her to her feet, eyes at the bruise upon her cheek, a tic in his jaw.
She was wholly unprepared for what happened next.
Because the prince who had entered into the home that had become her prison and casually slaughtered her boss now turned to her, near jovial.
“Winnifred,” he said. “How would you like a job?”
The love doesn’t end here…